


Triumph

by SyverneSien



Series: Through the Darkness [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Animals, Alternate Universe - Cats, BloodClan (Warriors), Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Crossover, Crack Treated Seriously, Dark Forest (Warriors), Gen, Kittypets (Warriors), Mild Blood, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Realm of Mianite, StarClan (Warriors), Twolegs (Warriors), i started this once before but this is the better version
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26365726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SyverneSien/pseuds/SyverneSien
Summary: Twolegplace is not kind to cats. Recent storms have driven all prey away and scraps are rotting faster than ever. Rogues hide in every shadow and cats must fight for what little food and territory they have. After two members of their group, Declan and Karl, decide to go to live with Twolegs, Jordan, Tom, Tucker, and Sonja send Jordan and Tom on a mission into the forest, where dangerous wild cats prowl, to see if there is any hope of being welcomed there.A new path is carved for these young cats, but everything comes with a price. After all, the brightest lights cast the darkest shadow.No prior knowledge of Warrior Cats is needed.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Tom Cassell & Jordan Maron
Series: Through the Darkness [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007805
Comments: 28
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You can find the spoiler-free allegiances for this story at this link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jORbsYPfHtDeGlNZLxqb2WL0Mhhhil4xUQIa25w8tIc/edit?usp=sharing

Jordan slinked across the ground, his blue eyes focused intently on the mouse he was stalking. This was the first real prey he’d seen in moons - if he could catch it, there would be no scraps for him tonight. Each pawstep towards the mouse was careful and precise, assuring that there was no sound to scare it away. Jordan’s breath caught in his throat as he came within leaping distance, he drew back into a pouncing position and…

Jordan let out a loud yowl and whirled around, the mouse escaping into the underbrush. “Tom!” he spat, eyes blazing. “You stepped on my tail!” Jordan flicked his tail across the ground with a wince, trying to ignore the sore spot where Tom had just stamped on it. “I almost had that mouse and now it’s gone and the whole forest knows we’re here!”

Tom did not even attempt to look apologetic. “It wasn’t me!” he objected, dark grey stripes rippling across his light grey pelt as he drew back. “I would never do anything like that, mate, you know me, always helpful-”

“Who was it, then, mouse-brain?” Jordan demanded, swiping one of his paws at Tom’s ears and making the other cat duck away. “You were standing  _ right _ behind me when someone trod on my tail, therefore it must have been you.” Jordan twitched his ears back so that they were laying flat against his head. “That mouse would have fed both of us,” he whined.

“We’ll find something in Twolegplace,” Tom reassured him, flicking his long tail over Jordan’s shoulders. “Come on. We shouldn’t be here, anyway. The wild cats know we’re here, now that somebody’s yelled loud enough to wake the entire forest,” Jordan’s fur bristled, “and they’ll shred us if they catch us.”

Annoyed, Jordan let Tom gently tug him back towards the towering Twoleg nests that made up Twolegplace. “We won’t find anything there,” Jordan objected. “Everything has drowned in the storm. Unless you want us to beg for food like kittypets…”

Tom flinched. “No, no, absolutely not. I am  _ not _ a kittypet.” His expression twitched momentarily into a snarl. “No cat in their right mind would beg Twolegs for slop that doesn’t even look like fresh-kill. We’re raiding scrapcans,” Tom declared. Scrapcans were what Twolegs disposed of their scraps in and their group’s main source of food. Jordan hated every moment of scrounging in the cans, though.

Jordan knew that the comment about kittypets had touched a nerve with his friend. Just a moon earlier, Tom’s father Declan and another friend of theirs, Karl, had gone to live with Twolegs as kittypets. They had a perfectly valid reason for doing so - Karl was too sick for cats to help and so the only way he could survive his illness was if Twolegs healed him - but Tom had still been vehemently against it. If forced to make a choice, Jordan knew that Tom would rather die than live with Twolegs as a kittypet. So Jordan didn’t press the subject and instead rolled his eyes and mewed, “We raided the scrapcans an hour ago, what makes you think there’ll be anything else?”

“We could get lucky!” Tom exclaimed. “Maybe the Twolegs have thrown away more sausages…” Tom licked his lips. “Whatever, I mean, we’ll find something. Then we can meet up with Tucker and Sonja and see what they’ve got.” The grey tabby skipped over a fallen log and started down the hill down into Twolegplace. “I’ll race you, Sparklypaws!”

Jordan huffed at the nickname and sprinted after Tom. He didn’t think his paws were sparkly at all - they were tinged a bit of ginger, that was it. And yet Tom insisted on calling Jordan Sparklypaws whenever he got the chance. “We’ll see who’s sparkly when I dunk you in a foxing scrapcan!” Jordan howled.

“You’ll have to catch me first!” Tom called back over his shoulder, the crunch of his pawsteps turning into a thundering as he charged onto the large, smooth stones that ran alongside the Twoleg Thunderpaths. Jordan didn’t see any monsters on the Thunderpath, so he continued at the same pace.

Jordan narrowed his blue eyes and focused on Tom’s long tail, which kept flicking annoyingly underneath his nose. He hadn’t paid Tom back for standing on his tail, after all. Perhaps it was a bit mean, but Jordan put on an extra burst of speed and caught Tom’s dark grey tail-tip in his teeth, digging his canines in and yanking back as hard as he could.

Tom skidded to a halt with a loud yelp. “What in the  _ stars?”  _ he cried, swinging his tail away when Jordan let go of it. “That’s cheating, you fox-heart!”

But Jordan wasn’t listening - he’d already pushed past Tom and taken the lead. The scrapcans in question were just around the corner. Jordan turned into the alley and darted towards the silvery cans, before taking a running leap and landing squarely on the lid. “That was payback for the mouse!” he shouted as he saw Tom’s tabby-striped grey pelt appear at the end of the alley.

“You  _ cheated,” _ Tom mewed pointedly. “Hurry up and knock it over so that we can see what we’ve got, Sparklypaws.” Tom’s long whiskers twitched in annoyance.

Jordan shook out his black pelt and hopped over to the next can, then used his back paws to kick out at the one he had just moved off of. It clattered to the ground and the top fell off with a loud clang. Jordan jumped down to investigate the trash with Tom and in the process, knocked the second can over as well. The strong stench of rotting fresh-kill assaulted Jordan’s nose and he grimaced. The recent storms had been causing fresh-kill to turn into crowfood even faster.

By the time the Twolegs finally heard the clamour in the alley and came to chase the two cats away, Jordan and Tom had made up a meagre pile of scraps. They were easily able to carry it off between the two of them, which Jordan supposed was good, but he would’ve liked for once in his life to have  _ too much _ fresh-kill. Unfortunately, this meant that they were unable to talk, so the walk back to where their group camped was awkwardly silent.

As they drew closer, however, Jordan’s ears perked up and his eyes narrowed. He could hear cats fighting up ahead. He glanced over at Tom and Tom nodded before breaking into a run. Jordan went after him, unsure what they should do with their fresh-kill. Tom dropped his scraps next to a doorstep and Jordan followed suit, then looked up and tried to find their friends.

Quickly, Jordan spotted Tucker and Sonja pressed up against a brick wall, hissing at their attackers. Tucker, a sandy ginger tabby, was standing a half-step behind Sonja, a ginger-and-white cat, and both of them were bleeding from multiple wounds. Tom let out a caterwaul and threw himself into the fray, leaping on the back of a large, muscular rogue. Jordan followed suit, unsheathing his claws and yowling to get the rogues’ attention before he bowled into the side of a brown she-cat.

Jordan growled and raked his claws over the she-cat’s ears, causing her to cry out and shove him away so that she could flee. Jordan was encouraged by this - there were a lot of rogues, but they were cowards. He spun around, blue eyes blazing, and jumped at a black tom to sink his teeth into the rogue’s neck. Jordan could hear Tucker’s voice raise above the din of fighting in a cry of, “Jordan! Tom!”

Jordan looked up, pushing the black tom away from him and spitting at the rogue. A muscular grey tabby had separated Tucker from Sonja and had his claws pressed against Tucker’s throat. Sonja was occupied with two brown cats and Tom was pinned underneath a calico cat, so Jordan quickly decided to rush to Tucker’s aid.

“Step off, you mangy piece of fox dung!” Jordan hissed at the grey rogue.

“Make me, kittypet,” the rogue spat back, slashing his claws across Tucker’s throat and releasing the sandy tom onto the ground.

Furious, Jordan charged into the rogue’s shoulder, biting and clawing at every inch of the rogue that he could reach. “Flea-pelt!” he snarled, recoiling as the rogue swiped his claws across Jordan’s muzzle and blood dripped into the side of his mouth. Finally, the rogue seemed to have had enough and sprinted away, leaving Jordan triumphant but exhausted.

Tucker let out a groan from the ground beside him and a bolt of fear shot down Jordan’s spine. The ginger tom was laying in a scary pool of blood, the fur around his neck stained a bright red.

Jordan dropped down, trying to figure out where Tucker’s wound was exactly. “Are you okay?” he demanded, nosing Tucker’s head up and peering at the blood congealing on Tucker’s neck.

“I’m… fine…” Tucker muttered, staggering to his feet. “It’s not that deep, I’m sure.” The ginger tabby’s tone was insistent. “Are there more rogues?” He unsheathed his claws and drew his lips back into a snarl, but stumbled again and Jordan stepped forward to let Tucker lean against him.

“You can’t keep fighting,” Jordan rebuked. “You’re too badly injured.” He nudged Tucker down, forcing him to sit. Jordan turned around, looking to see if there were any more rogues, but was instead greeted by the sight of Tom and Sonja chasing off the last rogue.

Tom licked blood from his muzzle and lifted his head, silver fur gleaming despite its raggedness. “So,” he started, not seeming to notice Tucker’s condition, “what was all that about?”

“Nevermind that,” Jordan snapped, curling his tail over Tucker’s back. “Tucker’s got a wound on his neck that we need to look at.”

Sonja rushed over to Tucker’s side. “I can try to clean it up,” she mewed. Then, quietly, she added, “Of course, Dec knows more about healing than I do, but… he taught me enough before he, er, left.”

Jordan glanced at Tom, but the grey tabby didn’t seem to have heard the comment about his father. “Is there anything I can do?” Jordan asked, quickly looking over Tucker. He didn’t seem to be dying, just wincing in pain.

“Help me move him under the cover,” Sonja directed. “Did you two bring back any fresh-kill?”

Tom looked hesitant. “Just scraps,” he replied. “I’ll get it while you two look after Tucker.” He dipped his head and moved back towards where they had left their scraps.

Jordan shifted to help Sonja move Tucker towards their actual camp, made up of a couple of old wooden crates with a tarp stretched over them. Once the sandy tabby was beneath the tarp, Jordan stepped back, the stench and sight of blood starting to make his stomach twist. “I’ll just… be outside,” he mumbled.

Back in the alley, Tom was pacing back and forth with his long tail thrashing. When he saw Jordan, he stopped and growled, “We can’t stay here, Sparklypaws!”

“What?” Jordan questioned, brow furrowed.

“Here! In Twolegplace! The prey is all drowning, we live in a heap of Twoleg junk, and this is the third time this week that we’ve been attacked by rogues! We can’t stay here!” Tom exclaimed, his green eyes alight with passion.

Jordan blinked. “This is our home, Tom. You’ve lived here your whole life. We can’t just pack up and leave.” He paused. “Besides, we always beat the rogues and we haven’t starved yet,” he pointed out. “We survive here.”

Tom’s fur bristled. “That doesn’t mean that it won’t happen. Tucker was seriously injured this time and just  _ look _ at these scraps.” He flicked his tail towards the tiny pile. “There’s more to life than just surviving, Jordan.” Tom sighed. “I want to be a wild cat,” he admitted. “The few times I’ve been into the forest, it always seemed so… so…  _ nice.” _

“Very good words there, Tom,” Jordan commented dryly. “We can’t just move into the forest. There are already cats living there, in case you’d forgotten. And they’re not just some mangy rogues - they  _ will _ shred us, mouse-brain.” He cuffed Tom on the side of the head with sheathed claws.

“I didn’t say that we take their territory or anything!” Tom replied indignantly. “We have things to offer them. We can hunt and fight, and Sonja knows a bit about healing… come on, Jordan, haven’t you always wanted to run free without worrying about Twolegs?”

Jordan admitted to himself that he did, but refused to say it out loud. “Are you suggesting that we walk up to a gang of incredibly dangerous cats and ask to  _ join them?” _ he shot back. “I don’t think we should risk it. Don’t you remember what wild cats did to Karl’s ear? Especially with Tucker injured!”

“Well, then, you and I could go and leave Sonja to take care of Tucker, and then if the wild cats agree we can come back and get them!” Tom suggested. “Don’t tell me that you don’t see it, Jordan. Yes, we’ve beaten the rogues this time, but there are more every time. More cats means less prey for us. Sooner or later we’ll be forced into Twoleg nests or out of Twolegplace… and I am  _ never _ becoming a kittypet,” he swore. “I would rather leave with our heads held high than our tails between our legs. Wouldn’t you?”

Jordan hesitated. “I will agree to a scouting mission into the forest to try to get an idea of the wild cats,” he said, “and nothing more. Not yet. And we have to run it by Tucker and Sonja first, okay?” Jordan sighed. He hated it when Tom was right.  _ He always gets this stupid look on his face… _

Tom grinned smugly.  _ Yeah, that’s the one. _ “Of course!” the silver tabby exclaimed. Tom puffed out his chest. “You and I would make fine wild cats, Sparklypaws. And then nobody would ever call us kittypets again.”

Jordan thought there was a distinct flaw in Tom’s logic, because since they were from Twolegplace they would probably get confused with kittypets a  _ lot, _ as they already were. But he didn’t feel like arguing further, so he just padded towards the scraps on the ground and said, “You talk to Sonja and Tucker. I’ll move these somewhere dry.”

Tom seemed to barely be paying attention to Jordan. “I can’t wait to eat real fresh-kill,” he mused wistfully.

“We would have had real fresh-kill this morning if you hadn’t stepped on my tail!” Jordan grumbled. “You’re not a wild cat, you’re just a foxing nuisance.”

Tom lifted his chin and promptly stood on Jordan’s tail again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After much pondering, I decided to take another shot at my MCYT Warrior Cats AU, taking it a bit more seriously and with a more concrete idea for how I want it to go! The original draft is still posted on my account under the title 'Those We Left Behind' if you want to see how this narrative has evolved, but it is absolutely not required in order to understand this new and improved version. Please enjoy, this is all for fun and if you like it feel free to leave a kudos and a comment <3


	2. Chapter 2

It was raining again. Jordan usually didn’t mind water, but when said water was drowning all the prey and making him permanently cold, he detested it. He shook out his long black pelt, trying to keep warm, but the rain just poured down and drenched him again. Jordan felt a twinge of jealousy towards Tom - the short-furred tabby didn’t seem to be bothered as much by the rain, or at least wasn’t showing it. When they reached the cover of the forest, Jordan would be grateful - even if hostile claws awaited them.

Tom sloshed through a large, muddy puddle, splashing mud onto Jordan’s face. “We’re almost there,” Tom announced, though Jordan could see the forest up ahead as clearly as Tom could. “Hello, freedom!”

Jordan thought that Tom was being far too optimistic. Even if they got the wild cats to not fight them long enough to talk, he doubted that they would take in outsiders. But he didn’t want to dampen his friend’s spirits - as much as they could annoy each other, Tom was still his best friend. His littermate, practically. Jordan couldn’t remember a time when he’d been truly alone.

The ginger-flecked tom darted up the hill and pushed through a large gap in the bushes, shivering uncomfortably as wet leaves dragged through his fur and left debris behind. “I’m never going to be clean again after this,” Jordan complained under his breath, picking a particularly annoying twig out of his chest fur with his teeth. Now inside the forest, Jordan stopped. “Which way, Tom?” he asked, blue eyes flicking over to look at the lean, taller cat.

Tom lifted his head and tasted the air. “I smell scent markings!” he declared. Jordan, frankly, couldn’t smell a thing with all of the rain. Tom had always been a better tracker than him. “Fresh ones - definitely wild cats. Come on, Sparklypaws!” Tom’s lips twitched up into a grin, revealing sharp teeth, and the grey tabby took off into the undergrowth.

Jordan rolled his eyes. Tom was incapable of walking anywhere - it was always a race with him. He hesitated for a moment, suddenly uneasy. Jordan wasn’t used to the forest and it wasn’t his territory, so he always felt like he was being watched. They were usually safe if they stayed on the very outside edge, like that morning, but he’d never been any further than that. Even then, Jordan swore that eyes burned into him from the shadows.

“Jordan! Are you coming, mate?” Tom’s head reappeared from behind the trunk of a pine tree. “I know you’re not the biggest fan of this but we stand a better chance as a pair.” Tom’s green eyes filled with sincere emotion and Jordan deflated a bit. Jordan cared so much about this cat, despite the teasing and jibes that might come across as mean to onlookers. Jordan would rather die than see Tom get hurt… hence why he was there, in the forest, on a potentially dangerous mission.

“Right behind you,” Jordan assured Tom, trotting forwards with his ears perked.  _ “Somebody _ has to make sure you don’t go charging into an ambush.” The black cat smirked playfully and dipped around the tree to follow Tom. “Keep an eye out and  _ be careful, _ Tom…”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about - I’m always careful,” Tom replied, lifting his tail and chin haughtily. “You should have more faith in me-”

“Oh, shut up!” Jordan laughed, cutting Tom off before he could finish with a bump to the shoulder. “You mouse-brain,” he taunted, flicking Tom’s ears with his tail, “you’re never careful.”

Tom grinned cheekily. “Why do I need to be careful when I have you to protect me, Sparklypaws?” the grey tabby teased, shoving Jordan back.

Jordan huffed, took a step back, and then pounced on Tom’s back, knocking him to the ground. “Who’s going to protect you from me, though?” Jordan mewed, leaning down to speak directly into Tom’s ear.

“Oh, is it a fight you want?” Tom growled, but Jordan could hear the playfulness underneath his mock snarl. “I’ll give you a fight, Jordan!” Before Jordan could react, Tom had yanked in all of his limbs and pushed himself forward, shooting out from underneath Jordan like a speeding monster, and whirled around to swipe Jordan’s muzzle with the back of his paw.

“You’re not getting away from me that easily!” Jordan cried, thundering after Tom with his teeth bared. Tom laughed and dipped around a tree, leading Jordan deeper into the forest. Jordan leapt towards Tom, trying to knock him down again.

Tom weaved away from Jordan, darting under a few low-hanging branches. He giggled and whipped his tail across Jordan’s nose. “You’re too slow, Sparklypaws!” he cried.

“I’ll show you slow, flea-brain!” Jordan hissed, unsheathing his claws to get a better grip on the ground. With a roar, Jordan dropped into a crouch and hurtled himself at Tom, sheathing his claws again while he was in the air. Tom let out a yelp as Jordan slammed him into the ground. Jordan’s chest heaved.

Tom attempted to blow Jordan’s tail away from where it was hanging next to his face and failed. “Okay, okay, I get it,” Tom grumbled. “You fight better than me. But you don’t have to  _ squash _ me to prove your point.” The silver tabby tried to escape from Jordan’s grip again but couldn’t manage it.

“Sometimes you deserve to get squashed,” Jordan declared heartily. “Anyway, uh, we’re still in enemy territory; we probably shouldn’t be making so much noise. Somebody will hear us if we don’t-”

“Too late,” an unfamiliar tom’s voice interrupted. “You know you’re not supposed to be here, so make our job easier and leave.” The speaker was a light ginger tabby with blue eyes who had since fully emerged from the brush. A smaller light brown tom with similar blue eyes was standing at his side, and both were accompanied by a lean dark grey tom and innocent-looking dark brown tom that were standing further back. After a moment of staring at the wild cats, Jordan noticed a dark ginger tom hidden by the shadows of the pines, bringing the total count of cats threatening them up to five.

Jordan gulped and moved off of Tom, resisting the urge to unsheath his claws. Tom was frozen beside him and Jordan wanted to hiss at him.  _ This was your idea, _ he thought aggressively, _ so say something! _

The dark ginger cat standing at the back made a disappointed noise. “Oh, it’s strangers. I was hoping it was that Dream cat,” he commented. “He owes me an ear-tip.” With a start, Jordan realized that the wild cat was missing the top of his left ear.

Tom cleared his throat and Jordan breathed a small sigh of relief. “Look,” Tom started with a squeak, and Jordan realized that he had probably thought too soon.  _ “Look,” _ he repeated. “We’re loners from Twolegplace. The storm is killing all of our prey and the rogues trying to drive us from our home are becoming stronger.” Tom paused. “We want to meet with your leader.”

The light ginger tabby glanced over at the dark grey tom and then at the dark ginger tom. “Duskstar doesn’t want strays,” the light ginger tom mewed firmly.

“He’s been paranoid ever since Whitemask and Amberclaw got too friendly with some rogues and brought back sickness,” the little light brown tom piped up, earning him a glare from the light ginger tabby.

“What have I said about Clan secrets, Timberpaw?” the light ginger cat hissed. “Anyway, strangers, you’ll have no luck with our Clan.” He paused, looking as if he were taking in Jordan and Tom’s ragged appearances. “If you want to keep trying, though, we can escort you over to the SpireClan border and make you their problem.”

“There’s more than one, er, ‘Clan’?” Jordan questioned. “And you have… borders?” He understood the concept but had always thought that all the wild cats lived together. “Where does the other Clan live?”

“SpireClan is up on the moor and the closest to where we are now,” the light ginger tabby mewed. “There’s a third Clan, HorizonClan, that lives over in the oak forest. Our Clan, DrizzleClan, lives here in the pines.” His whiskers twitched. “Do you want to go to SpireClan or not?”

“I do,” Tom put in. “Please, lead the way, er-” Tom paused, waiting for the ginger tabby to finish with his name.

“Birchheart,” the wild cat stated. “This is my apprentice, Timberpaw,” he flicked his tail to the light brown tom, “Sootsong and his apprentice Pinepaw,” Birchheart gestured to the lithe grey tom and dark brown tom, “and Redfang, commonly regarded as the best fighter in all three Clans.” Birchheart flashed Jordan and Tom a toothy smile, almost a threat. Jordan understood. If they caused any trouble, these cats would rip them apart.

“The moor is this way,” Sootsong said, stepping past Birchheart to take the lead. “We’ll see you safely into SpireClan territory.”

“Don’t even think about trying anything funny,” Redfang mewed.

“Best fighter in all three Clans, huh?” Tom commented as they started to walk. “I’ll have you know that I’m quite a good fighter myself. Chased off a couple of rogues just this morning!” The grey tabby smiled proudly.

Redfang huffed and shook out his dark ginger fur. “There’s more to being a good fighter than just shredding your opponent,” he shot back, then moved up to walk beside Jordan instead.

Jordan glanced over at the dark ginger tom. His pelt had very few scars, despite apparently being a seasoned warrior. Jordan was content to walk in silence - he was very much on-edge around these wild cats. He gazed around at the trees, having never been properly into the forest before. It was darker than he was used to, with sunlight only slightly dappling the ground through the leaves. Jordan could hear one of the cats talking, but it wasn’t directed at him, so he wasn’t listening.

“What’s your name?” a friendly voice chirped, and Jordan nearly jumped out of his fur. He hadn’t noticed Pinepaw creeping up beside him. “I’m Pinepaw. ‘Cause my fur is dark brown like the pines, see?” Pinepaw beamed at him.

“My name is Jordan,” the black tom replied. After a pause, he added, “I don’t know what it means.” Then Jordan thought for a moment. “What does the ‘paw’ mean? You and Timberpaw both have it, but Birchheart, Sootsong, and Redfang don’t.”

“Oh, it means that I’m an apprentice. Sootsong is my mentor, so he has to teach me everything about being a good warrior.” Pinepaw puffed out his chest and smiled proudly. “I’ve been an apprentice for a moon. Before that, I was Pinekit. When I finish my warrior training, I’ll be given a unique name like the rest of the warriors,” Pinepaw explained. “Then, if I ever become Clan leader, I’ll be known as Pinestar!”

“Names mean a lot to wild cats, huh?” Jordan prompted, with a glance towards Birchheart and Sootsong. They didn’t seem to care that Pinepaw was talking to him, so he pushed away his anxieties.

“Clan cats,” Pinepaw corrected, “and yeah, they do.” He flicked his tail back at Tom. “Your friend has a weird name. Who names a tom-cat ‘Tom’?”

Jordan snickered. He’d never really thought about that before. “I don’t know. Twolegs, I suppose?” he replied.

Pinepaw blinked. “Is he a kittypet, then?” Pinepaw asked, with a look over his shoulder in Tom’s direction. “I thought kittypets were all soft and fat.”

“He’s not a kittypet,” Jordan mewed hurriedly. “His father was- is- he was born with Twolegs but hasn’t lived with them for a long time.” Jordan hesitated. “Don’t call him a kittypet, it’s a sore spot of his.”

“Oh. Okay!” Pinepaw replied. Jordan wondered if this cat ever ran out of energy. “You’re not a kittypet either, right?”

“No,” Jordan said. “We’re loners, both of us. Not rogues, not kittypets.” Jordan’s ears twitched as his attention was torn away by the faint sound of rushing water. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” Pinepaw questioned.

“We’re approaching the border,” Birchheart commented. “Watch your paws.”

“Watch my-” Jordan started to repeat, confused, before the group of cats suddenly halted and he had to jump to the side to avoid walking into Sootsong.

“This is the SpireClan border,” Birchheart announced, flicking his tail. “Welcome to the gorge, cleanpaws.” The light ginger tabby stepped out of the way, letting Jordan and Tom pad towards the edge where the ground fell away, dropping directly down into racing, frothing water that tumulted around dangerous-looking rocks.

“Don’t tell me that we have to cross this,” Tom mewed, and Jordan could see Tom’s fur standing on end out of the corner of his eye.

Sootsong flashed them both a grin from Birchheart’s side. “There’s a rock wedged into the gorge further down, where the gap is smaller. It hasn’t fallen yet, so…”

Jordan wanted to say something, something to make these wild cats think that he was tough, even just anything that would embarrass Tom, but instead, he just gulped. He never thought he would think it, but he was starting to dislike water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Birchheart, Redfang, Sootsong, Timberpaw, and Pinepaw are Ph1lza, Technoblade, Wilbur Soot, TommyInnit, and Tubbo, respectfully!  
> Duskstar, Whitemask, and Amberclaw are Dianite and Josh and Tony Modestep from Mianite :)  
> Figured I should explain who people are when they're introduced for clarity's sake, lol.


	3. Chapter 3

“I’ll go first,” Birchheart declared. He quickly and carefully went across the rock to the other side, making it look easy, and stopped on the opposite ridge. “Timberpaw, Redfang, you next.”

The rest of the group crossed quickly, including Tom, until just Jordan and Sootsong were left. Jordan assumed that the Clan cats didn’t want to leave him alone. Sootsong flashed him a toothy grin. “After you,” the grey tom mewed.

Jordan took a deep breath and stepped off the edge onto the rough surface of the rock. It was just flat enough that he didn’t feel scared he would slip off - no, he was just scared of everything else that could happen (mostly the rock falling into the gorge). Trying hard to focus on where he was putting his paws without looking down past his paws into the tumulting waters below (which was very difficult, mind you), Jordan walked slowly and tentatively over to the opposite side. When he heaved himself onto solid ground again, Jordan breathed an audible sigh of relief.

“Huh.” Sootsong flicked his tail as he jumped up behind Jordan. “I expected loners to be cowards.” He didn’t sound particularly mean, just surprised.

“You’ve met loners before, and they weren’t cowards,” Redfang pointed out, voice dry. “Dream and his team would have killed you if Littlemouse, Foxfrost, and I hadn’t backed you up.” Narrowing his eyes and lowering his volume to a pointed, almost chastising, whisper, the ginger warrior added, “Don’t provoke strangers, Sootsong, c’mon.”

Jordan looked away, feeling like he was interrupting or overhearing something that he wasn’t meant to. He turned his gaze past the other cats towards the gradual hills and flowing grass of the moor that they were now standing on, his toes curling into the soft earth as he pushed himself forward, away from the edge. Mountains loomed above the group, ringing the edge of the moor and giving Jordan a sense of security.

“We’ll wait here for a patrol to come by. Though Nightstar and Duskstar are relatively friendly, we don’t want to cause any needless strife. We might need SpireClan’s help if HorizonClan decides to push the forest border again,” Birchheart directed. Jordan noticed how the other cats all looked to the light ginger tabby for instruction - he wondered if there was any particular reason for that, or if Birchheart was just the natural leader of the group.

Jordan sat down in the grass and curled his tail over his paws. Tom moved over to join him, sitting down heavily and gazing over with a small smile. They sat in silence for a few moments, the wild cats milling around absentmindedly, before Jordan snapped, “You’re staring at me.”

“So I am,” Tom replied with a shrug. He leaned closer to the black tom, sly grin growing on his face. “Got a problem with that, Sparklypaws?”

“Yes,” Jordan grunted, deliberately flicking his tail across Tom’s nose. “Get on with it or I’ll leave you for Pinepaw.”

Tom gasped dramatically and recoiled as if he had been hurt. “You’d leave me for a warrior apprentice you just met? I thought I meant more than that to you!” he exclaimed, sitting up straighter and appearing haughty.

“Not when you’re being a weasel,” Jordan snorted. “What do you want?”

Tom hummed, paused, then stated, “Waglington.”

Jordan froze. “I’m sorry?”

“Wag. Didn’t he come to live on the moor?” Tom questioned, tilting his head to the side. “I wonder if we’ll see him.”

“I have no idea how you go from fox to hare that quickly,” Jordan grumbled. Then he sighed. “I haven’t thought about Wag in ages.”

“That’s a lie,” Tom interrupted before Jordan could go on. “You were two sardines in a can.”

“I mean I haven’t really thought about where he _went,”_ Jordan clarified. “Of course I’ve thought about him.”

Tom opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by Sootsong announcing, “I see a patrol!”

Jordan stood up abruptly, shaking a few stray blades of grass from his fur. On the next hill over, racing towards the group, were three strange cats. As they drew closer, Jordan was able to make out their features - at the head of the party was a dark grey tom, and following closely behind was a yellow-and-white tom and a tortoiseshell tom.

The dark grey tom halted directly in front of the DrizzleClan cats, Jordan, and Tom, his hackles raised and lips drawn back in a snarl. The other two cats joined him, both looking as hostile as he. “What are you doing on our territory?” the dark grey tom demanded. “And with rogues, no less?”

“Hey, we’re not rogues, we’re-” Tom started before Redfang cut him off with a low hiss.

“Thunderflight,” Birchheart greeted, taking a step forward. “You seem… more on-edge than usual. Is something the matter?” He pulled on a smile, appearing nonchalant.

“You mean aside from the fact that there are trespassers on SpireClan land?” The dark grey tom, whom Jordan now knew was named Thunderflight, snorted and shook his head. “Nothing is the matter, Birchheart. Now, would you like to explain what you’re doing where you stand or in front of… in front of Nightstar?” Thunderflight snarled.

Birchheart’s whiskers twitched as if he didn’t quite believe that. “Here is fine, Thunderflight. These two loners are looking for a Clan to take them in. Considering Duskstar’s, ah, _issues_ with boundaries at the moment, we thought they were better off meeting with Nightstar,” the ginger tabby explained. “Would you mind taking them to see her?”

Thunderflight shifted his paws, looking conflicted, which allowed the yellow-and-white tom to step in, murmuring, “It can’t hurt to let them speak to her.”

“Gingernose…” Thunderflight sighed.

“They don’t look like a threat. It can’t hurt,” Gingernose reiterated quietly.

Thunderflight was silent for a few more moments as Jordan and Tom glanced at each other. Then the dark grey tom mewed, “We’ll take them to see Nightstar.” He paused, with a very pointed glance at Birchheart. “But first, go back to your own side of the border, frog-eaters.”

Jordan could see Timberpaw starting to bristle at the insult, and Pinepaw looked as if he were considering physically restraining the other apprentice. Birchheart seemed to notice as well, because he said quickly, “We don’t want a fight. We’ll go now.” He glanced over at Jordan and Tom and added, “Good luck.”

“Thanks, Birchheart,” Jordan replied, surprised. “Uh… see you later, I suppose?”

“Bye, Jordan!” Pinepaw piped up. The DrizzleClan cats started to make their way back over the border and into the forest, and in a few moments only their scent remained to indicate that they had ever crossed the gorge.

“What are your names and where are you from?” Thunderflight asked once the other cats were gone, his leaf-green eyes scrutinizing the two loners with intensity.

“I’m Tom and this is my friend Jordan,” Tom mewed, taking a step forward. Jordan didn’t know how he could be so confident - even though Jordan and Thunderflight were about the same height, the muscular wild cat was clearly the most dangerous of the group. “We’re loners from Twolegplace. We hunt for our own food and make our own nests, but the recent storms have been causing prey to be scarce and encouraging fighting among the groups. We’re here because we’re searching for somewhere safer to live.” Tom’s voice was steady, but Jordan’s ears, having listened to Tom’s voice for seasons, could pick up on a tiny quiver at the end of his sentences. So he _was_ intimidated by Thunderflight - that was reassuring to know. Jordan didn’t want to be the only one.

“A noble quest,” Gingernose put in, with a hard stare at the back of Thunderflight’s head. “Should we introduce ourselves?” he asked the dark grey tom.

Thunderflight huffed. “I’m Thunderflight, deputy of SpireClan. That means I’m second only to the leader, and if the leader dies I am the one who takes her place.” He flicked his tail at the yellow-and-white tom. “This is Gingernose,” he twitched it the other direction, towards the tortoiseshell tom, “and Slimefur. They’re both warriors - cats who hunt and fight for the Clan.”

The tortoiseshell - Slimefur - smiled. “Nice to meet you!” he mewed enthusiastically.

“Don’t cause any trouble, please,” Thunderflight sighed. “I’ve already been having a rough day.” He turned around and flicked his tail towards the mountains. “Camp’s in the cave at the base of the mountain. Follow us.”

“Why has your day been bad?” Tom asked, striding up to walk beside Thunderflight. Jordan slipped in between Gingernose and Slimefur, recognizing that the warriors probably wouldn’t want him to walk by himself just out of concern for safety.

“I didn’t say it was _bad,_ I said it was _rough,”_ Thunderflight corrected. There was an awkward, tense silence for a few moments, before Thunderflight explained curtly, “My mate is kitting right now.”

Jordan stuttered in his step, surprised. “Er… congratulations,” he mewed, noticing that Tom was looking a little shell shocked.

“That was… not what I was expecting you to say,” Tom admitted sheepishly. “Uh, yeah, congrats.”

Jordan was glad when Gingernose commented, “We got told by Nightstar to take Thunderflight out on patrol because his pacing was annoying her,” which dissipated some of the awkwardness.

“It’s our second litter,” Thunderflight said. “My son Violetwing is the Clan’s medicine cat and my daughter Cloudsight is a warrior like Slimefur and Gingernose.” The dark grey tom paused for a moment. “I… I used to have a niece, through my brother Thistlejaw, but she died in a badger attack a few seasons ago. Nightstar and I decided to have another litter after that.”

“Wait a second,” Jordan interjected before Thunderflight could continue. “You’re mates with the Clan leader?”

Thunderflight nodded. “And she’s just as cranky as any queen, believe me. Being the Clan leader doesn’t stop her from being a righteous pain in my tail.” He hesitated, smiled, and shook his head. “I love her, though.”

The rest of the walk was pretty much silent, with Jordan turning his gaze to the mountains they drew ever closer to. He’d seen them countless times from Twolegplace but never had he realized how close to them he really lived. They also seemed much larger than he’d thought they were.

Unfamiliar purple flowers speckled the moor, and as they neared the sheer rock face of the mountain and passed yet another clump of the flowers, Jordan leaned over to Slimefur and asked, “What sort of flowers are those?”

“That’s heather,” Slimefur answered. “It doesn’t have much use, but the nectar is sometimes used in herb mixtures.” The tortoiseshell glanced around. “It grows all over the moor.”

“I noticed,” Jordan replied. “Thanks for telling me.” He noticed that the rest of the group had stopped and halted as well, giving a curious look to the mountainside. “Er… where’s the camp?”

“Through here,” Thunderflight said, starting forward again and pushing through a curtain of leaves and vines. Tom glanced back at Jordan, shrugged, and followed.

“After you, Jordan,” Gingernose mewed, stepping aside to let him pass. Slimefur paused as well, waiting for Jordan to go next.

Jordan flicked his ears back and nodded to the two warriors in acknowledgement. Then he padded towards the leaf covering, trying to find exactly where the hidden hole was. Admittedly, he was worried about whacking his nose on something and looking like a fool. Once he had a pretty good idea of where he was going, Jordan pushed through the vines and stepped through the gap.

Inside was, well, a cave. No, a _cavern._ The smooth stone walls peaked into a rough dome shape far above Jordan’s head, the surface made jagged by numerous stalactites that reached down towards the cats like monstrous stone claws. Moss and other cave-dwelling plants that Jordan didn’t recognize crawled up the walls of the cave, adding an extra hint of colour into the otherwise drab camp. On the left side of the cavern, a small, fast-running stream cut through the ground, separating the entrance to another cave from the rest of the camp. Along the right wall were other holes, cracks, and gaps, all large enough for cats to fit through, and Jordan assumed those led into the various dens. At the far end of the cave was a series of small, yet sturdy-looking, rocky outcroppings, leading up the side of the wall to another cat-sized hole halfway up the rock face. Beneath that den, at the base of the wall, was another gap, much larger than all the others, which Jordan could vaguely peer into, and it appeared to be a tunnel that led deeper into the mountain.

“Woah,” Tom breathed, which pretty much summed up Jordan’s thoughts as well.

“Welcome to-” Thunderflight started, before he noticed a small dark grey tom with one stark white paw running over to them and cut himself short. “Violetwing, what’s going on?” he demanded. Jordan remembered that this was Thunderflight’s son, a ‘medicine cat’, and he looked distressed - which couldn’t have been good.

“You had three daughters,” Violetwing murmured, shifting his paws nervously.

_“Had?”_ Thunderflight repeated, his green eyes widening. “No-”

“Only one of them survived,” Violetwing told his father quietly. “Nightstar… she lost a life during the kitting as well. I did everything I could, but…”

Thunderflight bowed his head, seeming much older and weaker than the strong tom Jordan had met on the moor. “May I see her?” he croaked.

“I’ll take you in,” Violetwing mewed with a nod.

Thunderflight looked back at Gingernose, Slimefur, Jordan, and Tom. “I have to…” he started, appearing slightly lost.

“We understand,” Jordan responded evenly. “I’m sorry.”

“We’ll show them to the warriors’ den and keep them there until things have settled,” Gingernose assured Thunderflight.

“Thank you.” Thunderflight’s green eyes settled on Jordan for a few long moments, before he turned and went with Violetwing towards one of the many dens along the cave wall.

The four cats stood in silence for a few moments, before Tom broke in with, “This isn’t a good time. We should just go home and come back another day.”

Slimefur shook his head. “It’s late. You won’t make it back across the moor _and_ the pine forest before it gets dark. You should stay the night, at least, and if Nightstar still isn’t well in the morning, you can head back home then,” the tortoiseshell said.

“Are you sure?” Jordan questioned, surprised by their hospitality.

Gingernose inclined his head to Jordan. “Absolutely. I’m sure Thunderflight will tell Nightstar about what’s going on at… some point during the night.” Gingernose and Slimefur exchanged a glance. “If I had known this was going to happen, I wouldn’t have insisted that you come here with us.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Slimefur assured him.

“We won’t cause any trouble,” Jordan promised. “I hope your leader is alright.”

Gingernose regarded him sadly. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thunderflight, Gingernose, Slimefur, Nightstar, Violetwing, Cloudsight, and Thistlejaw are Spark Conway, StampyLongHead, Slimecicle, Ianite, Andor, Martha, and Helgrind, respectively! If you don't know who any of those people are, don't worry about it. The Spark-Ianite family is all from Mianite (woo!)  
> Oh, you thought this was going to be a FUN story? NO. ANGST TIME. FEEL PAIN. LOL.  
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed :D


	4. Chapter 4

Jordan wasn’t yet asleep when Thunderflight finally left the nursery again, ignoring the worried calls of his Clanmates and dipping towards the tunnel that led deeper into the mountain. It seemed that the SpireClan cats knew when they weren’t wanted and left Thunderflight to his own devices, but Jordan wasn’t a SpireClan cat. Not listening to the whispers from the other cats, Jordan exited the warriors’ den, stepping over the tail of a sleeping Gingernose (who was supposed to be guarding him and Tom), and headed in the direction of where he’d seen Thunderflight’s tail disappear last.

There was a certain heaviness to the air that Jordan didn’t want to disturb, a feeling of solemness and mourning. Even a whisper would be amplified to a caterwaul in these enclosed stone tunnels. Jordan swore he could hear the sound of his breathing echoing back at him. And it was so that when Thunderflight howled in anguish, Jordan dropped to the ground, fur bristling, on high alert as if he were about to be attacked.

It took a moment for Jordan to settle, realizing that Thunderflight was still further ahead, and, worried, Jordan plunged down the sloping tunnel until he finally came out in a large cavern. Most of the ground space was occupied by a dark lake, and the stones embedded in the ceiling and around the walls reflected the little light there was. Thunderflight was sitting by the edge of the lake, vehemently muttering to himself.

“I have done everything StarClan has asked of me,” Jordan could hear him saying. “I have dedicated my life to upholding the warrior code. And you repay me by taking my daughters?!” Thunderflight raised his voice on the last phrase, back up to a shout, and Jordan winced. He couldn’t see what Thunderflight was yelling at, but there had to be  _ someone _ there. Thunderflight seemed too wise to spend his time screaming at nothing.

“Thunderflight?” Jordan murmured, taking a step into the cavern.

Thunderflight’s head whipped around and he stared at Jordan. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, teeth showing beneath his lip. “Did you follow me? I thought you were supposed to be staying in camp.”

“Gingernose fell asleep.” Jordan shrugged. “I saw you come down here and wanted to make sure that you were okay.” He walked to the edge of the water, a few tail-lengths to Thunderflight’s left.

“I’m fine,” Thunderflight insisted. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Here as in the lake, or here as in the Clan?” Jordan replied, a little testy. Then he paused, rethinking his approach to the situation. “Let me sit with you. You shouldn’t be alone right now. Cats make rash decisions when they’re grieving.”

“I’m not a kit,” Thunderflight snapped, “but fine, you can stay.” The grey tom paused. “Tom, right?”

Jordan shook his head. “I’m Jordan. Tom is the annoying one who’s built like a twig.” Jordan hesitated. “This was your second litter, right? I hope you don’t mind me-”

“No, I don’t,” Thunderflight interrupted with a touch of sarcasm. “Yes, it was my second litter.”

“I remember now - Violetwing and Cloudsight were your first,” Jordan mewed, to which Thunderflight nodded. “The… the kit that survived, have you named her yet?”

Thunderflight was silent for a few long moments. “Moonkit,” he answered quietly. “May StarClan give her strength.” Thunderflight paused. “She’ll need it to make it through the rest of the night.”

Jordan tried to swallow the lump in his throat and failed.

* * *

“We should go,” Jordan told Tom when he woke up the next morning. “Tucker and Sonja will be worried about us. We should go home,” he glanced around the cavern, “and leave SpireClan to their grieving.”

Gingernose, who was standing nearby and not even trying to hide the fact that he was eavesdropping, mewed, “So soon?”

“We’re not going to accomplish anything here right now. Might as well get off your backs,” Jordan replied. “Besides, as I said - Tucker and Sonja ought to be concerned about us by this point.” Jordan glanced over at Tom. “Time to go.”

“Would you tell Nightstar and Thunderflight that we’re leaving?” Tom said to Gingernose. “I don’t think we should disturb them.”

Gingernose dipped his head to them. “Of course. I’ll get a patrol together to escort you to the border.”

“I really don’t think that’s necessary-” Jordan started, before Gingernose cut him off.

“Thunderflight would insist. I’ll gather some cats,” Gingernose said. 

Soon enough, two cats that were introduced to Jordan and Tom as Squidfoot and Redtuft had joined them, and they were escorted out of the camp and across the moor. They said their goodbyes at the DrizzleClan border, and then Jordan and Tom managed to make it through the forest without any trouble. At least, until they reached the far border.

“Jordan!” a young cat’s voice called as they were passing over the scent marks. Jordan stopped and turned around, watching as a very out-of-breath Pinepaw burst from the underbrush. “Jordan! Where are you going?”

“Back home,” Jordan answered. “SpireClan is, uh… we’re going to try another time.” He didn’t know if the loss of Thunderflight’s and Nightstar’s kits was something he should share with another Clan, but he didn’t want to lie, either.

Pinepaw opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could, a very haggled-looking Sootsong emerged from the brush behind Pinepaw, along with a ginger-and-white tom and a tortoiseshell she-cat that Jordan didn’t recognize.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, but would you stop running off, Pinepaw?!” Sootsong exclaimed, sounding exasperated. “Oh- hello again,” he said once he’d noticed Jordan and Tom standing there awkwardly. “What are you doing here?”

“Going back home,” Jordan responded, slightly irked. “We’re going to try with SpireClan another time.”

“Bad luck?” Sootsong inquired, to which Jordan nodded. “Too bad. There’s always HorizonClan as well, they live over in the oaks.” Sootsong flicked his tail to Sparkfire’s left, indicating where the oak forest was. “They’re all a bit boring though, nobody likes HorizonClan except HorizonClan.”

“Couldn’t you say the same about all the Clans?” Tom put in.

Sootsong snorted. “You’ve got me there,” the grey tom said. “So you’re just going back to Twolegplace?”

Jordan nodded. “We’re going to meet up with our friends and, well, go about our lives, I suppose. Trying not to get murdered by rogues or die of hunger and all that.”

“Well, good luck,” Sootsong replied. The ginger-and-white tom standing behind Sootsong coughed loudly, and Sootsong gave a start. “Oh, right. Foxfrost, Littlemouse, this is Jordan and Tom. They’re looking to join a Clan… at some point, I suppose. Foxfrost and Littlemouse are DrizzleClan warriors.”

“Why are we being so friendly with rogues?” Foxfrost hissed.

Littlemouse flicked his shoulder with her tail. “Foxfrost, be nice,” she mewed. “These cats are friends.”

Foxfrost narrowed his eyes. “Fine. As long as they’re not taking our prey, I’ll be nice.”

“Excuse him, please. His mother just passed away a moon ago,” Littlemouse said, looking at Jordan and Tom. “Salmonwhisker was a wonderful cat and we all miss her.”

“She was my mate and  _ I’m _ not acting like someone made dirt in my fresh-kill all the time,” Sootsong huffed. Foxfrost glared at him, tail lashing. “Salmonwhisker died of illness--you have no reason to be angry at these loners.”

Without saying anything more, Foxfrost turned and fled into the bushes. Littlemouse turned to go after him, but Sootsong stopped her.

“He’ll be fine,” the grey tom mewed. “He’s a grown cat; he’ll get over it.”

Littlemouse’s whiskers twitched. “You’re his  _ father. _ Can’t you be a little lighter on him?”

Sootsong just snorted.

Pinepaw shifted awkwardly. “Um… should we escort Jordan and Tom over the border?” he asked.

Sootsong nodded. “We can escort you all the way to your camp, if you’d like. There are dangerous rogues about.”

“We know,” Tom put in. “They’ve been attacking our group. Tucker was seriously injured a few days ago.”

“Why don’t we come and check on him with you? I know some healing herbs,” Littlemouse mewed. “And then there’ll be enough of us to fight off any rogues.”

“Yeah! Let’s go see your camp!” Pinepaw exclaimed. 

Jordan chuckled. “Sure, sure, if Tom’s okay with it.”

“It would be nice to have some company on the walk back,” Tom hummed thoughtfully. “I’m down.”

“Lead the way, then, Jordan,” Sootsong said.

With the black tom at the head, the group crossed the DrizzleClan border into Twolegplace. The change from the sweet, lush forest to the acrid, bustling streets was instant, and Jordan could hear the Clan cats coughing behind him. But he forged ahead, leading them onto the rough slabs of the sidewalk and quickly turning down an alley to avoid the Twolegs. There were many twists and turns on the way back to where Jordan and his friends lived, but it wasn’t very far. Mostly Jordan just wanted to stay off of the main roads.

“We’re almost there,” Jordan mewed, looking back at the Clan cats. “Just around this corner.” He went around the bend and flicked his tail to indicate for them to follow. “Tucker? Sonja?” he called out, wanting to warn them before Sootsong, Pinepaw, and Littlemouse arrived behind Tom. “Hello?”

Their home was a wide alley between two slowly-decaying Twoleg dens, with a couple of dumpsters and scrapcans and boxes scattered about. An old, injured monster blocked the far end of the alley, allowing cats to escape over or under it but preventing other monsters from turning down the way. Jordan headed directly for a dumpster that had lost its lid and been tipped on its side, with a tarp covering the opening. That was where all four of them usually slept--sometimes in greenleaf, when it was hot, they would spread out across the alley, but these days they slept together for safety.

Jordan poked his head under the tarp. Nothing. The scent of his two friends was heavy in the air, and fresh--they had been here recently, but they weren’t here now. “They’re not here,” he called back to the group. “They must be out gathering scraps. Sonja probably didn’t want to leave Tucker by himself, so he went with her.”

Sootsong sniffed the air. “I smell rogues. And fear-scent,” he mewed.

“That was a few days ago,” Tom said. “Remember? They attacked us here. We already told you about this.”

“No.” Sootsong shook his head. “This is more recent. And look…” the grey tom pointed to specks of bright red blood on the pavement that Jordan hadn’t noticed, “...fresh blood. There was a battle here while you were gone.”

Fearing the worst, Jordan opened his mouth to taste the air. “There’s no scent of death. They must have taken Tucker and Sonja captive--otherwise they would have run away and come back when it was clear again.”

“Are you sure? They may have gone somewhere else for refuge,” Littlemouse mewed.

Tom cracked a small smile. “Nah, we’re a stubborn bunch. They’d hold onto this territory as long as they could. If they’re not here, it means the rogues have them.” He sighed.

Just then, Jordan was startled by the sound of a scrapcan falling over. He whirled around, fur bristling, and unsheathed his claws. “Who’s there?” he growled, advancing down the alley towards where the shadows were darkest. Tom and Sootsong fell into line behind him, backing him up. “Show yourself!”

A black shape darted out of the darkness and Jordan leapt forward, catching the cat’s scruff between his teeth and throwing them to the ground. The cat writhed beneath his paws and Jordan snarled, pressing his claws into the side of the cat’s neck. “Mangy flea-pelt,” Jordan growled, the cat falling still as Jordan dug his claws in deeper. “What have you done with-”

Jordan stuttered, blinking red clouds from his eyes and forcing himself to focus on the cat he had pinned down. He was a dark grey tom with even darker stripes and a solid black tail, with pale amber eyes like cold sunlight. “Waglington?” Jordan breathed, loosening his grip in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

Waglington had been part of their group once but had left to pursue what he claimed was his destiny of exploring the world. Jordan hadn’t seen him in seasons--they’d all feared that he was dead, whether by dog or fox or badger or rogue, they didn’t know. But clearly, by the fact that he was breathing heavily beneath Jordan’s claws, Wag was alive.

“Nice to see you too, Jordan,” Wag mewed, snorting in amusement. “BloodClan has Tucker and Sonja. I came back at just the wrong time--or the right time, depending on how you look at it--and found them being escorted away. I tried to follow and scout out where they were going, but before I could get too close to their camp, one of them spotted me and threatened to rip my pelt off if I didn’t leave. I decided to come back and hang around here until you two showed up, since I figured you wouldn’t be far.” The black tabby narrowed his eyes at Jordan’s paws, still on his chest. “Would you be so kind as to let me up now, since you know that I’m not BloodClan?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Jordan sat back and let Wag get to his feet. “How long ago was this?”

“Few hours, maybe,” Wag answered. “They’re mostly unharmed.” Jordan opened his mouth to speak, but Wag kept going. “I know what you’re going to ask me to do, and if you go there it will most definitely be a trap. They want you to join them or leave Twolegplace--they will not let you live in peace.”

“What are you going to do?” Pinepaw piped up, walking over to stand next to Jordan. “You can’t leave them there.”

Jordan was quiet for a few moments. “You three need to go back to your Clan,” he said solemnly. “Wag… take us to negotiate with BloodClan’s leader.”

  
Wag dipped his head. “I do not know how much honour BloodClan has. They may simply slaughter you the moment you attempt to argue.”

“That’s a risk we’ll have to take,” Tom mewed. “We’re not strong enough to fight. We have to try  _ something.” _

“I’ll show you the way,” Wag said. “Clan cats, do you know your way home?”

“I remember,” Sootsong replied. “Good luck, you three.”

  
“Thank you,” Jordan said.  _ We’re going to need it. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foxfrost and Littlemouse are Fundy and Nihachu!  
> Haven't updated this in a while, but I was rereading some Warriors books and got my muse back.


End file.
